


In the Dark

by VagrantWriter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Emotional Manipulation, Eye Trauma, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Object Insertion, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VagrantWriter/pseuds/VagrantWriter
Summary: Reek thought there was nothing left for his master to take from him. He should have heeded his own words: It can always get worse.
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33
Collections: Thramsay Secret Satan 2020





	In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PenelopeTower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenelopeTower/gifts).



> This is my fill for the Secret Satan (TM) exchange on the Thramsay Discord server.
> 
> Merry Saltire-mas to PenelopeTower. This is a prequel to my Darkfics, [Swearing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23323159/chapters/57220585) and [(Un)Seeing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24442651/chapters/59462020), where Theon gets captured after trying to lead Ramsay's hounds away from Sansa.
> 
> This is a **Dark** fic, so please read the tags. There is no comfort to be had here. Only terrible things.

They held his eyelids open while they did it. The last thing either Reek _or_ Theon saw was the hot poker.

And when he woke up, he barely remembered the sizzle of iron against his eye at all and the world was dark. He was on a mattress—stuffed with straw, his knees curled up so that he could fit, rough linen under his bare skin, heavy, stiff blanket on top. The room smelled bitter and earthy. It wrinkled his nose, which pulled the burned skin at the corners of his eyes was tight.

Every twitch of his face hurt.

He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy, like someone was holding them closed now. He felt wetness of his cheeks, pooling in the hollows of his eyes. Too thick for tears. Or _just_ tears, at least. Somewhere, something clinked rhythmically—metal or glass, he couldn’t tell—and someone hummed softly. Whoever it was, Reek knew they would not help him.

For a long time, he lay there, panicked sobs welling up in his chest. But all that came out were choking little gasps. Hiccups, almost. Every tiny tremble of his jaw stretched burned skin.

He deserved this. For running. For thinking he could run.

Eventually, somewhere in the black ether of his new world, he heard the creak of a door opening—a sound he knew well. The clinking and humming stopped.

“Is he awake?” That was his master’s voice.

“Hmm,” the hummer answered, and nothing further.

Reek lay there, hiccupping, as the gentle click of boots drew near.

“Re~ek.”

He clenched his jaw to keep the hiccupping down. Felt his throat spasm with the effort. And the skin of his eyes stretch.

The footsteps came closer, and Reek _felt_ his master’s shadow fall over him. Ramsay was like that. His very presence blocked out all light and warmth. Reek _felt_ him staring down at him. He could see the expression on his master’s face, in his mind’s eye.

“Oh my Reek, helpless as a lamb.”

Reek stiffened as Ramsay sat, making room for himself on the pallet, when there was hardly room for Reek. On the other side of the room, the door opened again, and then closed. The humming and clinking did not return. Reek knew they were alone then, him and Ramsay.

“Open your mouth, Reek. I have something for you.”

A keening little sob wormed its way out of Reek’s throat.

Ramsay’s tongue clucked. “None of that, lamb. It’s only something to eat. To help you heal faster.”

Reek felt something press against his lips. A wooden spoon. But what was it? Piss? Poison? Not enough to grant the release of death, but just enough to sour his stomach and have him retching and shitting himself for days on end?

He forced his jaw to relax, his mouth to open. The spoon tipped and fed its contents into his mouth.

Broth. So salty it stung the sores of his gums. But simply broth.

“There we are,” Ramsay hummed. “There’s a lamb.” 

Reek swallowed and sniffled. He felt gummy tears forming again, leaking out from under closed eyes. When the spoon returned, he opened his mouth and obediently took what his master gave him. He couldn’t see how large a bowl his master his brought, or how high he had filled it, and so he had no way of knowing how long it would go on. His master spoon-feeding him like a babe. Perhaps he had a bottomless bowl of soup.

But after a while, the spoon simply stopped coming. Reek sat there for several seconds with his mouth open, waiting, before he realized they were done. Then he closed his mouth and lay back on the mattress.

Ramsay moved, shifted, and Reek heard something sloshing. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth again, but instead flinched when he felt something cold and wet and rough against his cheek.

“Hush, lamb,” his master said, gathering Reek into his lap. His body seemed even bigger when Reek couldn’t see it. “Your face is a mess.” He pressed down on the damp cloth, then rubbed. Reek felt the heaviness of his eyes lift slightly. “You’re lucky you don’t have to see just how disgusting you are now. Do you know where you are?”

Reek shook his head.

“You’re in Maester Wolkan’s study. Your eyes were so mushy after we scrambled them, he had to take them out. Not that you were anything to look at before, but now your face is all just burns, blood, pus… Lady Sansa would vomit at the sight of you.”

Lady Sansa.

Reek swallowed the spit collecting in the back of his mouth.

Ramsay scrubbed at his right cheek. Either the mess was hard to clean away, or he just took delight in using more force than was necessary. A tiny chuckle escaped Reek’s lips, only to quickly turn into a whimper. Of course it was the latter.

“Ugly,” Ramsay muttered. “Disgusting. Useless. Look what you made me do, Reek. _Look_ what you made me do.” He snorted. “I suppose you can’t.”

Reek didn’t answer.

“Was it worth it?”

Reek lay very still. He knew what Ramsay was asking. “Did Lady Sansa escape?”

His master offered no answer, and so Reek didn’t either.

The cloth stopped moving. It left Reek’s cheeks cold as it withdrew, and he heard it plop back into the water. But it didn’t return. Ramsay was standing. And because Reek was on his lap, Reek was also standing. Or rather, being dragged.

For a moment, he was suspended above an empty abyss. He grabbed for his master, but there was nothing. And then falling. And then the floor. Something _squelched_. Pain erupted anew from his face. Burned skin against rough stone.

Reek lay there, ears ringing from the pain. Half on the floor, half still on the pallet. Ass in the air, as if he were presenting for his master.

“Get up,” Ramsay hissed.

Reek sniffled. He wasn’t sure he could.

Slowly, he braced his hands against the floor and tried to lift himself up. His arms trembled. His elbows buckled. His meager weight was too much even for himself.

Somewhere above him, Ramsay’s tongue clucked again. “Useless.”

Reek yelped as a hand wrapped around his upper arm and hauled him up. His foot hit against something, the rim of a wooden bowl, and water splashed against his shins. The water Ramsay had used to clean his eyes. Reek squeaked and flinched.

“Clumsy,” Ramsay sneered. “You just can’t help yourself, _can_ you?” A sharp yank forward.

Reek had no idea where they were going. He threw his free arm out, swinging around to find something, anything to help him. To keep him standing or let him know where he was. But there was nothing, just his master’s firm grip on his arm.

Something rammed into his hip. Something solid that wobbled and rattled. Reek yipped, more in surprise than pain.

“Knocking over the maester’s things, Reek? After he tended to your eyes so nicely?”

Reek felt Ramsay’s breath against his face. They had stopped for a moment, and he heard rattling from the table. His master’s free arm rummaging among the maester’s things.

“But then again, we both know you’re not one for _gratitude_ , don’t we, Reek?” Ramsay’s breath disappeared, and another hard yank pulled Reek forward once again. “Come on, move. Faster. You wanted to get away so badly? You’ll have to move faster than that, Reek.”

 _He’s angry_ , Reek thought. _He’s angry but at least he doesn’t have Lady Sansa._

He flinched when he heard the door open, just ahead, and braced too late to avoid the door frame. It smacked him in the face. He felt blood dripping from his nose, thinner than the tears of pus oozing from his eyes. He didn’t know if this was the smack that had bloodied his nose, or the one before, when he’d fallen from the cot. It all seemed moot at this point.

Once, Ramsay would have laughed. He would have taken a moment to enjoy Reek’s pain and confusion. But he was silent now, and relentless as he continued onwards, dragging Reek out into the hall.

The maester’s chambers were not unknown to Reek. Theon had known them well enough, and the princeling’s ghost lingered in Reek’s mind. There would be a long corridor just outside the study. He felt just an ember of comfort that he knew where he was now.

That ember died quickly as Ramsay flung Reek forward. Reek cried out, but was able to throw out his hands to stop his fall this time. His face was saved.

Not that he had any face worth saving.

He lay there. Bleeding. Oozing. Realizing he was naked. And that it was cold.

He heard Ramsay’s boots on the floor. “Well?”

Reek lifted his head in the direction of his master’s voice, but of course he could see nothing.

“We’re going to play a game.”

Reek’s jaw quivered. “M’lord…?”

“If you can evade me for five minutes, in this condition, _you_ win.” There was a hint of that old glee back. Reveling in Reek’s suffering. “But if _I_ catch you, _I_ win. And when I catch you, I’m going to fuck you…” A hand grabbed Reek’s own. Large. Warm. It guided Reek’s hand to something long, and cold, with bulbous ridges running along its hard length. “With this. Understand?”

He didn’t. He didn’t know what he was feeling. What Ramsay wanted to fuck him with.

A choked sob eked out. Like a croak. “I can’t.”

Ramsay jerked the cold, hard thing from Reek’s hand and delivered a kick to his chest that sent him sprawling forward again. “You think this is as low as it gets, Reek? If you don’t even try, I’ll cut off both your legs. Then you can crawl in the dirt all you want.”

Reek sniffed. Blood trickled down his throat. Tears oozed down his cheeks, thick and heavy.

He nodded.

“Five minutes,” Ramsay’s voice said, as Reek struggled to even get to his hands and knees. “Think you can manage that?”

Reek had no answer.

“Go!”

Reek gritted his teeth and dug his nails into the stones, dragged himself forward. Pressed his palms to the floor and pushed himself up. Elbows buckling. And like that, he crawled for several feet, until he managed to get up on his knees, and then onto his feet.

It was his first time standing with no sight. The world vanished to only what he could feel beneath his bare feet. His body swayed. His head swam with dizziness. He took one step, two, then stumbled sideways until the wall caught him. Something solid that was not the floor. He pressed himself flat against it. Drew in a hiccupping breath.

How long was the corridor? How long was five minutes?

You could count a minute in heartbeats. He seemed to remember that from somewhere. But he couldn’t remember how many. And his heart had surely beaten a thousand times alone in the past few seconds alone.

He started to feel his way along. Trembling fingers and shuffling feet.

He tried to summon the courage he’d felt when he’d jumped from the ramparts with Lady Sansa. The terror he’d felt when he’d heard the baying of the hounds as they’d forded the river. The determination he’d felt when he’d led the Bolton men away from Lady Sansa’s hiding place.

_Keep moving. Keep moving._

But the corridor was just an endless black nothingness. It was choking, the nothingness. He could barely breathe as he waded through it. Theon thought he should pass a branching hallway soon, but there was nothing ahead. Reek listened for the sound of his master’s footsteps, but there was nothing behind. Nothing to hear over the rush of blood in his ears. The thousand-beating of his heart. He choked out a sob.

_Keep moving. If you make it entertaining enough, perhaps he will let five minutes pass._

No. His master would never.

He grappled along until he felt an edge to the wall and knew he’d finally, finally come to a corner. How much time had passed? Surely five minutes. It felt like hours. But no sooner had he started to feel his way around the corner than a hand clamped on his shoulder and drew him back.

“Time’s up. I win.”

He was shoved forward. Stumbling. Nothing to hold him up. He sprawled onto the floor. Again. It was where he belonged.

“I have to say, Reek, that was pathetic, even by your standards. It’s almost like you don’t _want_ to escape.”

“M’lord…” Reek murmured.

“But if you didn’t want to escape, why did you run? Why did you _steal my bride_!?”

The hallway echoed with the accusation. Reek’s ears rang painfully, but he had no answer.

Hands—warm, big—grabbed his hips. Canted his ass upwards. “Whore,” Ramsay said, as if he _meant_ it. As if Reek were a lover he’d found in bed with someone else. “You don’t deserve my cock.” Something pressed against Reek’s hole—hard, cold.

Reek’s chest pressed against the floor with every hiccupping sob.

The cold, hard thing pressed in. Reek’s hole was so used to being stretched, it had forgotten how to be tight, and the thing was not so wide as his master’s cock. But nonetheless, the thing was dry, and it met resistance. At first. But then it popped through the ring of weakened muscle, its dry metal length dragging along Reek’s insides.

Reek whined.

“Shut up!” Ramsay hissed. “Keep moaning like a whore and I’ll sew your fucking lips shut!” He pushed harder on the thing. Several inches of metal sank in, as smooth as sandpaper.

Reek laid his cheek against the floor. It pulled against the burned skin of his tight, but it was a welcome pain. A distracting pain. At least until the first bulb pressed insistently against Reek’s hole, begging entrance. It _was_ wider than Ramsay’s cock. And it resisted going in. At first.

“Being coy today, are we, Reek?” Ramsay grunted and pushed harder.

There was a moment of terrible pressure, where Reek felt he would pop. The bulb stretched him to its widest before finally slipping in, and he swallowed down any noise.

The thing still has more to give, though, and Ramsay continued to feed it into him. At least now it was warm, and the way eased with blood. Reek had grown to appreciate blood, and the minimal assistance it offered. After another inch, he felt another bulb, not quite as wide as the first, but still the muscles of his thighs tightened.

“Heh,” Ramsay smirked. “You have no idea what I’m fucking you with, do you?”

Reek didn’t answer.

“For all you know, I might just keep shoving it into your guts until it comes out the other side. Impale you all the way through. Wouldn’t that be a fitting end to a whore like you?”

Would Ramsay do it? Actually kill him?

He doubted it. It would be too easy. But for a moment, as the second bulb forced its way in, he wondered. He doubted.

The stone beneath his cheek was wet now, and slimy with his tears. Perhaps one day Ramsay would run out of things to take from him, and then it would end. But somehow Reek doubted that as well.

There was always more to lose.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guessed the item in question is a candlestick, congratulations, you are correct! Choose from one of these fine [examples](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a7e40e32aeba58a9068f9af/1525898228106-VGOMBYEK8QFHLALALYTQ/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kDHPSfPanjkWqhH6pl6g5ph7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z4YTzHvnKhyp6Da-NYroOW3ZGjoBKy3azqku80C789l0mwONMR1ELp49Lyc52iWr5dNb1QJw9casjKdtTg1_-y4jz4ptJBmI9gQmbjSQnNGng/Gold+Candlesticks+2.jpeg?format).


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